RUN
by LoserKid05
Summary: SPOILERS FOR SERIES TWO FINALE. Alex Drake is stuck in a coma and Gene's got the blame for putting her there. As strange things start to occur, Gene has to skip town, while Alex questions if she's back to reality or not and faces her own internal conflict
1. RUN

RUN.  
Chapter I - RUN.

* * *

It had been two days, and the desk of Detective Inspector Alex Drake remained vacant. There was an uneasiness in the CID, more so than when Chris' betrayal had been exposed only a short while ago. Shaz had made several trips back and forth from the hospital; she was more quiet than usual and often spoke to Chris in silent whispers. Ray would sit and smoke cigarette after cigarette, staring into space half the time.

But most of all, there was tension amongst the ranks. Tension directed at Gene.

He'd done it now. He was up shit creek without so much of a match, let alone a paddle to get him out. There was a lag to his stride as he pushed open the doors to CID and was welcomed by a nervous hush. He glanced around the room before scowling and making his way through to his office. He'd just gotten back from the Hospital once again; the nurses practically threw him out. _Something about slapping a patient to try and coax her from her coma._

"_Bolly! Bolly, wake up!"_

And he slammed the door behind him and hastily closed the blinds; he let himself exhale sharply and shook his head.

"Christ, Bolls… what've I done…" he said to the empty room and sat down, slamming the Quattro keys down on his desk.

He reached over for a drink and lit another cigarette. He shook his head as he greedily downed the whole glass and drew on the burning white stick of wonder he'd so affectionately treasured over the years. He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and frowned. They'd never felt so bitter.

'_Oh God, now the booze an' fags are against me...'_

Without warning, his computer flicked into life. Gene turned his head to look at it, a look of sheer confusion on his face. It flashed, waiting to type something for a few moments before a mass of words appeared on the screen in bright green capitals.

SECURITY WARNING

PATIENT TRYING TO ESCAPE BUILDING

IC WARD

SUFFERS SEVERE HEAD TRAUMA

BULLET WOUND INJURY

ALEXANDRA DRAKE

ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE  
ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE  
ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE  
ALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKEALEXDRAKE

Gene read the words, but couldn't see sense in it all. Why the bloody hell was Drake's name here? What was all this about head trauma? He stubbed out his cigarette and tried pressing a few buttons to get the bleeding thing to turn off. But nothing worked. Throwing himself out of his chair, he slammed his fist down on top of the computer's screen, but the words still flashed at him.

"Stoppit you stupid piece a space-shite!" he growled at it.

Behind him, a radio crackled into life and over the loud static, he heard someone whimpering, crying.

"No… no… I can't… I don't want to go back… Molly, Molly! … Molly!?"

Gene turned sharply and stopped dead at the sound of the woman's voice. "… Drake?"

She started screaming, her words became jumbled, a mix with uncontrollable sobbing. Shouts for 'Molly' and confused calls.

"Alex? Alex!" Gene had walked up to the radio, his voice growing louder as he barked into the metal.

"I… Someone… get… get me out of here, please!"

"ALEX! Talk to me!"

The static grew even louder before she suddenly shouted "SOME ONE HELP ME,"

"ALEX!"

"'Guv?" Ray's voice sounded behind him.

Gene whipped round and stared at the DC, the radio had switched off and computer had blinked into nothingness once more. He stood in complete shock for a few moments and didn't say a single thing as Ray looked at him with a frown.

"… are you alright, 'Guv?" he asked after a few moments.

Gene looked down. What the bloody Nora had just happened?! Not wanting to explain himself, he grabbed his cigarette packet and the keys of the Quattro before hastily pushing past him.

"Going out, dunno when I'll back," he said sharply.

"Want me to c-"

"No," he barked, slamming the doors behind him.

* * *

Drake's flat – very much like her desk back at the station - was left untouched. Nothing had been moved, not even the last coffee mug that was still stained by her lipstick. Her bed had been left unmade, drawers left open as she'd rushed out the house that morning. Gene didn't know where to start.

The tape had left him bitter and deceived; he'd been betrayed by the one person he thought he could count on. _'You and me, Bolls… You and me…'_ But after what had happened down at the station, he had to know more, work out just who Alex Drake was. He had to admit, for the year he'd known her, he hadn't been more eager to get inside mad ol' Bolly Knickers' head in all his life. The tape had been dated; surely she'd been keeping a kind of voice diary… so there must be more tapes.

He began to rake around shelves, looking in drawers and boxes to find the rest of them. He spent the good time of half an hour searching Alex's flat until he finally found the stash. They gleamed at him, whispering for him to listen to them. Gene sighed, what was he doing? Listening to the mad prattling of a posh tart... He picked the first one out, labelled not long after Alex had joined the CID and rummaged around for a cassette player. After jamming the tape in and hitting the play button, he braced himself for whatever might be said.

"My name is Alex Drake, I've just been shot and that bullet has sent me back to 1981. I may be one second away from life, or one second away from death. They say that as you die, your life flashes before you, all those memories and mistakes that form us. Well bring it on. My life can flash away as much as it wants because I am not going to die. I'm coming back to you, Molly…"

Gene clicked the cassette off and shook his head, uttering a heavy sigh.

"Bloody 'ell, Bolls. I try to work you out and I might as well run ten miles backwards" he muttered.

Alex had told him she'd been shot and he'd refused to believe her. She'd been playing him for a fool, made him feel a right mug. But why was she telling the same story to him, nearly a year after she'd said it to a tape machine? He just didn't get it. It didn't make sense. Gene pulled out another cigarette and lit it, he felt bad for smoking in Bolly's flat when she wasn't here. The cigarette smoke would cover up that perfume of hers; erase any hint of her presence.

"Bloody women," he muttered, although his heart wasn't in it.

He shook his head and grabbed the box of tapes, making a go for the door. He gave the flat one final look around before flicking out the light and quietly locking the door behind him.

* * *

Gene waited a while before going back to the station; he left it until most of CID had gone home by driving round the streets. He didn't have the heart to go see Alex again, not now. Just not now. With the box tucked safely under his arm, he shoved the door open with one hand and walked back in, heading for his office. Throwing his coat and keys down, he quickly set about pulling the tapes from the box. Sitting in his chair and pouring himself a drink, he swallowed hard. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"This world... it's my world... it's all in my head. I've created my world with constructs. It's just... why is Sam known here? Is it possible we share the same world..?"

Gene stopped the tape again. Oh, how the mind boggles. He felt like he was getting nowhere with these tapes and two hours had already passed.

"Talk to me, Bolls..." he said the machine, taking a swig from his drink and started the tape again. "Please just make sense..."

"Gene... where on earth do I start with Gene Hunt? I... I have to trust him... but he's keeping me anchored here. I admire him very much, I am rather fond of him and when I do go home, I will miss him. But if only another time, another place, another world. Not here. What am I doing? I have to get home, I just can't! I can't stay here and abandon Molly. Not even for Gene Hunt..."

"Ahh, Bolls..." he sniffed quietly and stubbed the end of his cigarette in his ash tray.

He drowsily poured himself another drink as his listened to Drake go on; rubbing at his eyes, he was almost lulled by the sound of her voice, as if she were really here in the room with him. He sighed and downed the glass, closing his eyes as he listened to her.

"I have to fight; I have to get home... Gene? Gene, what's going on? Something's not right... I don't know where I am anymore,"

He opened his eyes and found himself still sat at his desk, but around him was doused in darkness. Only the light from his desk gave him a little light to see. Out of the shadows, Alex slowly walked into the light. She was dressed in a white hospital gown, her head bandaged up with starched bandages.

"Bolls?" Gene stood up.

"I wanted to go home!" she began to sob, a strange echo to her voice. "I have to be with Molly. I can't stay here!"

"Bolly what are yer goin' on about? Bolls, they think I shot you!" Gene told her, running around the desk and grabbing her by shoulders.

Tears ran down her face as she reached up with one hand, placing it to his cheek. Her fingers felt like ice. Alex shook her head.

"Help me, Gene..."

"How Bolls? I don't know what to do!"

But it was as if she hadn't heard him, "Help me!"

She suddenly flickered out of existence, gone in the blink of an eye. Gene stared at where her face had just been; he heard the soft bleeping of a heart monitor somewhere in the darkness.

"... Alex?" he looked around. "Alex!?"

"Its game over for you Gene," whispered a man's voice, a slight Irish twang to it.

"Oo's there?" he reached for his gun. "Oo's bloody there?! Alex?!"

A man slowly came out of the shadows, a dark smile pressed at his lips and an air of sinister intentions about him. Fair hair and piercing blue eyes. Gene recognized him instantly, but never knew his name. It was that bloke he'd shot... right before he'd shot...

"You're dead," Gene sneered.

"Put the gun away, Hunt..." Summers scoffed with a cold chuckle. "What makes you think it's going to help you now? Look what happened to Alex..?"

"You shuttit you bloody spook, where's Drake?!" Gene shouted, the heart monitor got louder.

"I think you better worry about yourself, Gene. Get out of town for a few days," he told him before walking back into the shadows.

"Oi, gerr back 'ere!" Gene roared over the bleeps of the heart monitor, deafening him.

"Run, Gene. For God's sake, RUN!" Alex shouted.

Gene bolted awake and looked around. He was back in his office, left in an uneasy silence.

"Fuck's sake..." he muttered, wiping at his face. It was just a sodding dream.

He looked up and frowned, his computer had flicked back into life. And only one word flashed up on the screen. Only one single word in bright green capitals.

RUN.

* * *

Now might be the last chance he had. He felt cornered, and he did not – of all things, like being cornered. Not this Gene Genie. Not only was the Plods after him, thinking he'd tried to kill Alex, but the amount of spooky shite that kept happening to him wasn't helping him either. The wards were quiet as he silently slipped through them like a ghost, looking for the right room.

It seemed to take forever to find her; and when he did, he sighed and felt a sudden pang of shame. What had he done?

Alex Drake lay unconscious on the hospital bed, so fragile and small in the hospital gown. The soft bleeps of a heart monitor greeted him coldly as he sat down beside her. He looked over at her with a sullen look on his face, taking in the mass of curls splayed out across the pillows and the bare skin of her face free from any makeup. Her arms lay limp on the bed over the sheets; Gene sniffed gingerly and reached for a hand.

What the fuck had he done?

"Bolls, I've no idea what's goin' on right now. But I really wish you were awake to tell me..." Gene sighed and shook his head.

He put a hand to her face, her skin cool and soft against his rough hand. He inhaled deeply and looked away to listen for any nurses coming his way before his eyes fell back onto a comatose Drake.

"Please wake up soon, Bolls. Come back to me and help me sort all this out..."

Her watched for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. But he got nothing.

"I listened to your tapes, by the way. 'ope you don' mind..." he continued. "For a posh nutter, you don' say some half-bad things 'bout me..."

Another silence.

"I'm quite fond of you too Bolls..." he added with a weak smile. "All more reason why you need to soddin' wake up..."

He stared hard at her limp hand and swallowed. He was shouting at himself on the inside, blaming everything under the sodding sun. Him, Mac and the whole lot of those bent coppers, Jeanette and that stupid bloke he'd shot. He exhaled sharply and looked back at Alex's blank face. He had to go.

"Don't leave me, Alex," he told her.

He gently put her hand back down on the bed and stood up awkwardly. This was it, he had to run. Everyone was against him now and his only hope was out cold in front of him.

"Wake up, Bolly. Wake up..." he sighed. "..So it's just you and me again..." he added quietly before disappearing into the night.


	2. Got A Suitcase, Got Regrets

RUN.  
Chapter II - Got a Suitcase, Got Regrets.

A/N: This seems to be the case of "Ask and ye shall recieve" at this current moment in time. I'll update whenever I see fit/whenever I feel inspired. Thank you very much to everyone who's commented this and such, I really appreciate it! =3 Lyrics are copyright to Tom McRae.

* * *

_Change the locks on the door._

_Put out the light in the hall._

_I do not live here anymore.  
_

_But all I know is_

_I'm not ready yet_

_For the light to dim_

_Got a suitcase, got regrets_

_But I'm hopeful yet_

_So wake up pretty girl_

_See the hope in small things_

_Disappointment can wear you thin.._

_

* * *

  
_

He'd travel light. That's what he'd do. Take only what he'd need. Fags, cash and maybe some clean clothes if he had room. After a quick trip home, Gene returned back to CID to fetch Alex's tapes. If he couldn't have the real Bolly to pick his brain to pieces, these tapes would have to do. Gene barely understood what Alex was saying half the time, but he really hoped that one day he would.

Shaking his head, he itched at his temple in contemplation. He couldn't quite believe he was taking advice from a dream in the form of a spook, a comatose posh tart and (in his opinion) a broken computer. But he didn't really have a choice.

He was in the thick of night now. Gene figured getting out of London and returning to Manchester to lie low. But there was no way he could afford to take the Quattro, he'd be found too easily. He'd have to store his beloved car away in a garage and swore blind that if anyone even wondered about it being there, he'd castrate them with his bare hands.

Chucking the last tapes and cassette player into the box, Gene looked around for anything else he could take. He glanced out the door of his office and saw Alex's desk stood silent in the gloom. Sighing heavily, he wondered about the letter she'd written him and he hadn't bothered to read. He had his own reasons for not opening the letter where his DC, DS and Shaz had all read theirs. One was him simply being true to his word, he respected Bolly enough for that. And two, he was a little weary about what she could have possibly written to him.

Letting one of his usual sullen pouted looks settle over his features, he made his way over to the desk and began to search in the drawers looking for the envelopes. He paused when he found them, three already opened and one still sealed. Carefully pulling the sealed envelope out the drawer, he gave it a careful look before gently shoving it in his inside pocket. Hastily shutting the drawer, he grabbed his belongings, turned out the lights and silently left the CID for the once last time for perhaps a very long time.

* * *

"Security!"

"Someone sedate her!"

"Ms. Drake!"

A chorus of voices, all crashed together in mass confusion and panic as Alex ran around the hospital, trying to find her way out. No. No. No. No. This can't be happening. She was home. Back to 2008. Back to Molly. What was going on? She just didn't know anymore. Gene's voice was echoing around in her head. She shut her eyes and all she could see what his face.

"P-please... I just want to go home!" she begged.

She slipped away out of view from the hospital staff and hurtled down a long corridor. She crashed through another set of doors into a stairway. Drinking in the silence, Gene's voice seemed quieter; no trace of a television screen of any kind around her. Panting, she looked around. Up or down? Heaven or hell, it seemed. Making a split second decision, she headed skywards, her whole body aching and begging for her to stop. Her head pounded with a dull drum beat as she climbed the stairs, the calls from nurses growing fainter. Don't stop, Alex. Don't stop.

And when she ran out of steps to climb, she forced herself through another fire-escape door and found herself on the roof of the hospital. The cold air hit her like a fist; she inhaled sharply and shivered. Hugging herself, Alex wandered across the cold and empty roof. She looked towards the clear skies, tears running down her face. Was this her world? Was this her true home? It didn't feel like it.

But then, she couldn't feel anything.

* * *

He was dreamin' again.

He was outside; everything was so bright and clear, a fresh and new day. He was by the Thames, he could tell that much, but that was all. There was no one else around, not a soul. Gene turned, squinting in the daylight before he spotted someone in the distance walking towards him.

"'ello?" he called.

They didn't answer him, but kept walking toward him. Gene felt uneasy, but began to walk towards them. Whoever it was, they were female. Brunette wearing a casual/office suit and blouse. Why was a bird wearing this get up? It didn't seem part of the fashion. And then he realised and stopped dead.

"...Bolly?"

Sure enough, it was Alex Drake who walked confidently toward him. Her hair no longer permed, but now straight and worn up. Every grace he knew so well still present as she walked, but Gene still frowned. She was looking straight through him, that he wasn't there at all. She was only a few metres away now and didn't show any signs of stopping or looking at him.

"Bolls? What're yer doin' here?" he asked her.

Alex still made no reply and simply walked past him. Gene called after her, irritated.

"Oh just ignore me then! Bolly get back here.... Drake!" he barked.

Alex suddenly stopped walking and slowly turned around. Gene made a face of silent shock and grimace when she saw her face... or rather her forehead. A thick line of blood ran from a bullet sized hole in her forehead, a few thread-sized trickles at the sides of it. It slowly ran down her temple, down the side of her face and spilled onto her cheek. Gene watched in horror, gobsmacked.

And she finally saw him, their eyes met. There was a sudden panic in Alex's eyes.

"Gene," she murmured.

He jumped awake and blinked at the daybreak through the window, scenery steadily passing by. He took a moment to remember where he was, He was on a train. Manchester. Had to lie low. Sighing, he wiped at his hands and lit a cigarette before looking down at the cassette player on the table in front of him. He hit the play button.

"I'm so sorry, Molls. You probably still have no idea what's happened to me yet. Only seconds have passed since I was shot. I hope you're still with Evan, that you're safe and you're not afraid. Not as afraid as I am. But I'm trying... so hard to be strong..."

Gene shook his head; Molly had been spoken on nearly every single entry that Alex had made. He felt a sudden pang of guilt and reached up to rub the side of his face, as if he could still feel the smack Alex had given him for mentioning her daughter.

"And I promise... I promise I'll get back to you, and we'll blow out the candles together. I love you, Molly..."


	3. Closing In

RUN.  
Chapter III - Closing In.

A/N: Thanks again for all of the lovely reviews! I think I may have figured out a plot for this, zomg! Lyrics (C) Imogen Heap.

* * *

_Is it safe now?_

_Will your arms be open?_

_I just have to kiss you,_

_Try and stop me_

_Closing in_

_I hope that you make it_

_I hope that you find your way_

_It's all that I want in the whole world_

_Please be there, please be there..._

* * *

Alex stood in a long corridor; a long line of lights bore down on her, searing hot white, forever burning. They marked the full length of the corridor and seemed to go on and on and on and on and on and on... Looking down at herself, she frowned; she was back in clothes from 1982. Alex shook her head - she didn't understand, what was going on? She shivered and hugged herself; where was she? Her teeth chattered, she could see her breath in the cold air.

"Hello?" she whispered, looking around meekly.

She was greeted by nothing but silence.

".. H-hello?"

Suddenly, the lights started going off. It started at the far end of the corridor, each light cracking and fizzling violently out of existence. Alex's arms dropped to her sides like dead-weights and she took an uneasy step back, her hazel eyes widened in fear. She inhaled shakily, the speed of each light flickering out was growing faster and faster, they were catching up to her now.

"Hello?!" she called out, her voice showing tones of panic.

Her eyes were still skywards, watching the lights going out. Alex started edging back again, her breaths grew laboured. Her eyes glossed over as she panicked and kept stumbling backwards. _FlickFlickFlickFlickFlick..._

"No.. No! Leave me alone!" she cried.

She made to turn to run but as she did, she collided into something... or _someone_. Alex uttered a cry and shut her eyes tight as they grabbed roughly onto her. She made to fight back, her hands pressed against their chest - and push herself away, but a familiar, gruff voice spoke out to her.

"Bolly, Bolly - it's me, calm down!"

Alex froze and swallowed had; she slowly looked up and opened her eyes. The lights had stopped flicking out and they were left alone in the corridor under one, lone light. She broke the silence with a short gasp, gazing back at her were a pair of soft, blue eyes.

"Gene..." she murmured, taking in a shaky breath.

Alex looked at his chest and smoothened down lapels of his coat; her hand paused over his heart and she silently felt for a heartbeat. She held her breath when she found the dull, regular beat of his heart and let a smile twinge at her lips for a moment. She shook her head, _this was so real_.

Her heart ached; she didn't know what she wanted anymore. She wanted to be with Molly, but as she stood in the gloom in a silently embrace – she found herself wanting the man in front of her. Alex exhaled softly; she was flooded with so many thoughts and feelings. He was a construct, nothing more. But she couldn't help feel how she did about him. During her time in his world, she wanted to distance herself from him and concentrate on getting home. But over time, she had become drawn to him. _She needed him_. All the while, as Alex's mind became a battlefield, Gene was staring down at her longingly, a bittersweet hint lingered in his eyes; Alex caught his look when she gazed back up at him.

"This can't be... I.." she faltered, "Is this real?"

Gene sighed sadly, "Bolls..."

"I want this to be real, Gene..." she whispered, inching closer to him.

He tried to speak again, but Alex cut him out.

"Help me, Gene..." she told him, reaching up with one hand and holding it to his face, "Don't let me go..."

"Alex..." he started but sighed and trailed off.

He lowered his head closer to hers, they eyes met once more – a gentle clash of blue and hazel. Alex, ghosted her fingertips over his lower lip, they traced down the side of his face and along his jaw line. She licked at her lips. The moment seemed to drag out forever as they just looked at one another. Gene glanced at Alex's lips; they were pouted and parted ever so slightly. He raised one of his hands from her waist to caress her neck before he gently brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss.

This was real, Alex knew it. She closed her eyes, His lips against hers – it never felt so perfect, so liberating.

Their moment did not last, as their kiss deepened, a voice called out to Alex.

"Mummy?"

Alex slowly opened her eyes and inhaled, her head felt groggy. She was greeted by white and sterile conditions, hospital... she was back in hospital. Swallowing hard, she blinked and tried to wake herself up more before looking to where Molly's voice had come from. At her side appeared a very worried little girl, she was biting down on her lower lip, holding onto her hand. Alex's eyebrows raised a fraction and she remembered. She'd ran up... she was on the roof... but what happened?

"Oh Molls... I'm so sorry..." she said sadly.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Alex," the Doctor walked in with a clipboard.

"I got... spooked," Alex said lamely, "Everything's still a little... fuzzy"

The Doctor gave her a sympathetic look, "You've been through a lot, it's understandable," he penned something down on his clipboard, "You must rest Alex, alright? No more running off,"

He gave her a nod before walking out the room, Alex watched him go before turning back to her daughter. Molly reached forward to give her mum a hug and sniffled softly, Alex blinked and hushed her.

"Hey, no tears..." she told him, "I didn't mean to run out like that. My head's just so jumbled up right now..."

"I missed you, Mum..." Molly said gently.

"I miss you too, Molls..." Alex said softly.

Alex reached and rubbed her daughter back, still trying to soothe her. She glanced nervously across the room at the TV screen just at the side of her bed, her breath held as she waited for Gene to start shouting at her through the screen. But he didn't appear. He'd disappeared, for now.

* * *

Gene sighed and gathered all of Alex's tapes together as the train slowly pulled into Manchester. It had been a long night, he was exhausted and he had a feeling he was starting to get a little too sober than he normally liked. Sodding trains. If only he had the Quattro. As he stepped off the train into the start of the early morning rush of people trying to get to work, he headed straight over to the nearest phone box he could find. Digging into his pocket for some change, he hastily punched in a number and waited impatiently as it rang.

"Hello?" a familiar female's voice called.

"Annie..." he sighed softly, "It's me,"

She paused on her end of the phone; Gene could feel an awkwardness across line. He listened to the sound of a child's voice on her end, Annie hushed them before sighing.

"Gene... long time no speak," she said to him, "How've yer been?"

"I've 'ad better days," he said with a tired chuckle. "Listen, love.." he felt bad, he didn't want to throw this on Annie like this. But who else could he trust?

"I need a favour..."


	4. Remembrance

RUN.  
Chapter IV - Remembrance.

A/N: Lyrics are (C) to KT Tunstall.

* * *

_  
Locked inside your head  
Do you realize the things you said  
Never made sense?_

_Do you remember that night  
When I had to play your angel  
Saving your soul?  
Even though you were holding on tight  
A part of you was taken by the demons below_

_And all the damage you do  
Is so honest and true  
I don't want to feel sorry for you.._

* * *

The next week had been a blur: Doctors, Nurses, medication, tests. Alex just seemed to flow with everything, didn't protest, didn't argue or fight. She was exhausted, she was home. Or so she believed. Her eyes were constantly on the TV, waiting for a reappearance of Gene. But it never came.

On the other hand, she was constantly dreaming of him; sometimes it was always the same thing, in the cold, long corridor. Sometimes they'd be fighting; he'd be dragging her down his end of the corridor, while she would be fighting back to her end. She'd be screaming at him, sometimes she'd beg, plead with him to let her go. They were constantly at war with one another. Alex determined to stay in 2008 and Gene determined for her to come back to him in 1982. And they'd always end up in each other's arms, tears streaming down her face. And he'd kiss her tears away; hold her close until she succumbed to repose. She would whisper to him, ask him in the smallest of voices for him to let her go. But he wouldn't; he couldn't bear to lose her.

Alex would wake up after every single dream, and would still feel his kisses still on her lips. She was so fond of Gene, but she couldn't work out her dreams. She was no Freud, but she guessed at inner conflict. Even still, she still remained so drawn to him..

Soon enough, the Doctors agreed that Alex could now be released – her progress had gone on remarkably well, they were impressed. Alex just wanted everything to be normal again, get back to her job; back to being a mother – as if nothing had ever happened. She wanted to forget about her year spent in the 1980's, like it had never happened. But she simply could not forget about Gene Hunt.

Evan had come to pick her up and take her home; he looked so tired compared to his 1981 self. Salt and pepper hair at his temples and lines now marked his face. He gave her a weary smile and pulled her into a hug.

"Good to have you back, Alex," he told her.

"God, it feels like years..." she told him, with a relieved smile "It really has,"

"Mum, look what we got you," Molly appeared beside him with a bunch of flowers.

Alex looked down and her smile faltered. The flowers she was holding were any ordinary flowers. They were roses. Red roses. She hesitated for a moment before slowly taking the bunch from her daughter's reaching hands. She touched one gently, feeling the petals ghost over her fingertips. It all came flooding back, what she had tried to block out. Summers and Operation Rose. He'd left her countless roses for her wherever she went...

After a long silence, she gave her daughter a small smile. "They're lovely, Molls..."

"Come on, Scrap" said Evan, motioning Molly towards his car. "Let's get your Mum home, yeah?"

* * *

He decided to walk to the Tyler's house, it wasn't a long walk – but he just didn't want to rush there. Even after two years, he found it difficult to talk about Sam, let alone go to his home. He'd never forgive himself for what happened to Sam, never.

He walked along the road, looking for the house. They all looked the same, tidy and well maintained gardens, family car in the drive. It gave Gene the heebie-jeebies. It felt like an age since he'd last been here, and it hadn't really changed much. He found his paces getting slower and slower, trying not to think about _that day_.

He felt so bad for Annie, widowed and left alone to raise a kid all by herself.

Gene soon found himself at the right house and he stopped for a moment, looking at the brick work of the garden path. He sighed and shook his head; better get this over and done with. Sniffing, he slowly made his way up the path. He knocked on the door gingerly and waited with a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Annie didn't have to do this. But she was prepared to help him out. He didn't deserve any help at all...

Not after Sam, or Alex.

The door opened and standing at it was a sweet-faced girl around the age of five or six. The little girl looked very small for her age and seemed very shy and withdrawn. She had long, mousy hair that fell just over her shoulders and looked up at him with soft, dark, twinkling eyes. _Sam's eyes._

"Lucy?" Annie's voiced call from inside; she soon appeared at the door behind her.

She'd barely changed since he'd last seen her almost two years ago

"Alright, 'Guv?" she said with a warm smile.

"I'm not yer 'Guv anymore, Tyler. Yer should know tha'," Gene wryly replied, but still offered her a weak smile anyway.

Lucy turned and looked up at her mother, her eyes widened a fraction. "Mam, oo's that?" she asked in a loud whisper.

Gene raised an eyebrow, his usual sullen pout settled across his features. Lucy tugged at her lower lip with her teeth and silently toyed at the hem of her grey, pleated school skirt. Her mother shook her head and laughed lightly.

"Now don't tell me you don' remember Uncle Gene," she said to her daughter softly.

"Uncle Gene?" Lucy turned round again to look at Gene suspiciously.

Gene looked away; he couldn't look at her eyes. Not those eyes. They reminded him too much of Sam, and they brought all the sadness back again. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, he needed another cigarette.

"Yeah, love..." he said finally in a nonchalant tone, "I suppose yer were too young to remember me,"

Lucy said nothing and looked down; she quickly turned and disappeared back into the house.

"Don't mind her," Annie said with a sigh before motioning him in, "She's always quiet in the mornings; she'll perk up after school. Come in, Gene,"

"Thanks, Annie..." she said with an appreciative look, stepping in through the front door.


	5. Our Colliding Worlds

RUN.  
Chapter V - Our Colliding Worlds

A/N: Oh, a bit more of a decent chapter! I apologise for any typos, I hope they're not too frequent and off-putting... But anways, the plot thickens! Lyrics (C) Nancy Sinatra.

* * *

_Music played and people sang,  
Just for me the churchbells rang._

_Now he's gone,  
I dont know why.  
And till this day,__  
Sometimes I cry.  
He didn't even say goodbye,  
He didnt take the time to lie._

_Bang Bang,  
He shot me down  
Bang Bang,  
I hit the ground  
Bang Bang,  
That awful sound  
Bang Bang,  
My baby shot me down..._

* * *

Gene sat awkwardly at the kitchen table of the Tyler's house, he'd never felt so bloody uncomfortable in all his life. Lucy was sat next to him, pushing the last few cornflakes around the sea of milk in her bowl. She was swinging her legs lightly, waiting on her mother getting ready to take her to school. Bowie played on the radio that was sat on one of the kitchen benches: _"I'm happy, hope you're happy too..."_

Sighing, Gene shot her a quick glance and fumbled in his coat pocket, looking for his cigarettes and lighter – he was desperately craving nicotine. He quickly pulled one out and threw the packet down on the table. Lucy sat watching him, but didn't raise her head. He flicked open his lighter and was about to light up when she finally looked up at him.

"Mam doesn't like people smokin' in the 'ouse..." she said quietly.

Gene paused and sighed again, putting the cigarette away with a defeated look. "You're too much like yer Dad, yer are..." he replied.

She pursed her lips at him and he gave her a small smile, "Yer remember much 'bout 'im?"

Lucy paused, "I dunno. Kinda..."

"Good bloke, the best mate yer could ask for," Gene said in a low voice.

Lucy smiled up at him shyly and put her spoon down in her bowl. She slipped off the kitchen chair and skipped out the room, looking for her mother. Gene watched her go and smiled sadly to himself – that little girl was definitely the spitting image of her father: the same quiet and calm manner and the dark eyes so full of life. He missed Sam, he always would. As he lost himself in a silent moment of nostalgia, the radio fizzled into static; he turned sharply at the sound of Alex's voice, a confused look on his face.

"I'm home... I have to be... right?" she said quietly. "... But... why can't I feel anything anymore, Gene?"

He listened and tensed when she said his name. He didn't get why he could hear her over the radio, it wasn't possible, right? She was stuck in the sodding coma he'd put her in. All the mental shite: the dream, weird things going on with the piece of broken space-shite that was his computer and the radios. Was he going mad? No he couldn't, the Gene Genie _does not turn mental_. No chance. Gene shook his head and frowned.

"Bolls?" he said quietly, getting up and walking over to the radio. And before he knew what he was doing, he spoke back, "Oh come on, Bolls. Yer gotta be strong...Get back to me."

He paused and added in a low voice "We're waitin' for yer, Bolly..."

The radio crackled out again and Bowie came back: _"You better not mess with Major Tom..."_

Gene stared hard at the radio. This was too much. This was not black and white as he very much liked. He couldn't get his head around this all; the messages, Alex's tapes full of nothing but mad ramblings and heart-felt pleas to her daughter. All of it. This just wasn't happening. Why couldn't things be simple again? Before Alex arrived, before Sam's death? Back in the seventies where life was simple, he could get the job done – no questions asked. The scum was off the streets and he ruled his kingdom without fuss. All of that was gone now. And look what he had now. And now... Now there seemed to be something bigger out there, and it to be honest... it scared him a little.

* * *

Evan took Alex and Molly home, it felt like an age since she'd been in her own house. It really had. She spent a good twenty minutes just walking from room to room, taking in each detail of where she lived. Evan set down a paper bag full of various medications the hospital had given Alex on the kitchen table and busied himself with making dinner, Molly helping chop vegetables. The reality of it all overwhelmed her and she swooned slightly, a dull ache in her forehead. As she steadied herself against the wall, Molly looked up.

"...Mum?" she frowned with concern.

"I-I'm alright sweetheart... I think I better go for a lie down..."

"Alex?" Evan hurried to her side to help steady her. "Do you want a hand up the stairs?"

"No.." she took a gulp of air, "No... I think I can manage..."

She gave Evan a weak smile and slowly shuffled out the room and headed upstairs for the bathroom. Splashing her face with cold water, the ache still loomed.

"Come on Alex... You're home..." she told herself as she gazed at her pale face in the mirror, her head still in bandages. They'd be taken off in a couple of days, "I have to be... right?"

She grimaced in pain and put her hand under the running water... she couldn't feel it. She shook her head in disbelief, how was this possible? It was as if her skin had gone numb. She reached forward, turned on the hot tap and waited for it to heat up; the steam began to cloud up the mirror. Biting down on her lip, she edged her hand under the heavy flow of water. Expecting to be scalded, she felt nothing there. She watched as he skin burned red and still she didn't feel a thing. Pulling back her hand, her mind went fuzzy, her words slurred. She found herself asking:

"... Why can't I feel anything anymore, Gene?"

Alex swooned; the pain at the back of her skull became unbearable. She saw stars in her eyes as she put a hand to the side of her head, gasping in agony. Staggering out the bathroom door through the hall way, she reached out with one hand, shoving the already ajar door of her bedroom open and fell through, landing in a heap on the floor. Her brain seared with pain, she'd never felt anything like this before. Tears were streaming down her face as she dragged herself across the floor and pulled herself onto her bed, her whole body fighting against her, becoming dead weight.

With all the effort she could muster, Alex managed to crawl onto her bed and collapsed. She curled up into a ball, her forehead glistening with sweat as screamed in agony, begging for herself to pass out and block all the pain out. Where was Evan and Molly, had they not heard her? The thought left her mind; it was one thing too much for her to think about. And as if someone had turned out a light, she blacked out. All the while, a soft tune playing in the distance: _I'm happy, hope you're happy too..._

"Alex... Aaaaalex..." a soft Irish accent cooed.

Her eyes opened, but the room was spinning. A mass of abstract colours; flashes of light and blurred faces. She blinked, trying to see sense of it all. The voice was so familiar, it made her blood run cold when she realised who it was. She turned over on the bed and inhaled with much difficulty, a face became clear and two cold grey-blue eyes found hers.

"No... Noooo..." she whined, clutching at her head, "No, you're dead..."

Martin Summers smiled down at her, relishing in her pain. He shook his head and sighed, the smirk still remained.

"You're not home yet, Alex..." he told her. "Your head's telling you that you are, but you're still stuck in 1982,"

"No..." Alex whined again, tears streaming down her face.

"The mind's a funny thing. But yours is just something special," he mused, "Faced with physical injury and your brain simply pushes you further into your subconscious. It fulfils your needs to comfort itself and has created a copy of the world you so desperately want to get back to..."

"No, you're lying..." Alex's words were slurred as writhed on the bed and slowly began to push her body up, trying to sit up.

"Do you _really_ think I'd be here if this was the real 2008?" Summers sneered, stepping closer to her, "Like you said yourself: _I'm dead._ You're stuck in another dream-world, Alex."

Alex collapsed onto the bed and grimaced, the pain in her head becoming unbearable. Her eyes flickered closed for a brief moment, wishing him away. But when she opened her eyes again, he was still there.

"No..." she groaned, pulling a pillow over her face to block him out. "Get out, get out!"

"You better wake up Alex, before it's too late..." he warned her, "It's those _pretty little pills_ you're taking. They're keeping you here..."

"Stop taking them, if you _really want to get home_..." he added before she blacked out again.

* * *

When she finally opened her eyes again, it was early morning; she could hear birdsong outside. Someone had been in her room and had tucked her up in bed. Groaning, she slowly sat up in bed and looked around her room. Had Summers really been here? Her mind still felt hazy, she didn't feel 'with it' at all. She remembered his words:

"_You're not home yet, Alex... Your head's telling you that you are, but you're still stuck in 1982,"_

And then she'd remembered, Summers was here in 2008 with her. She had to find him. Reaching over to her bed stand, she picked up the phone and began to punching in numbers to her office. A young woman answered the phone.

"This is DI Alex Drake. I know I'm still on leave, but I need a favour..." Alex said into the mouth piece. "I'm looking for an ex-Policeman active in the 80's and 90's..." she paused for a moment, clawing at his name with difficulty. The devil made flesh. "Martin Summers..."

"Summers?" the woman was jotting the name down. "..No problem, Ma'am. I'll phone you back later today," came the reply from the young woman after a few seconds.

"Okay, thank you... Bye-bye..." she placed the receiver back on the hook and let out a dull sigh.

Alex looked over at her bed stand and saw her medication and a glass of water staring back at her. He'd told her to stop taking the pills. Could she really believe him? Was she really home? Her mind was constantly hazy, plagued by intimate dreams of Gene Hunt – and now a deceased Summers stalked her. This place wasn't real... was it? She felt cut off, like she wasn't really here. Numb to the world. She couldn't feel anything anymore.

She blinked softly and slowly got out of bed. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. She looked down at uttered a quiet shriek at a dark patch of red on the material of her shirt. Blood. _Her blood._

"Oh god... Oh my god..." she squeaked and stumbled out of bed.

She headed for the bathroom, a hand pressed to her stomach as she grabbed the nearest towel next to her. Her breathing was ragged, her skin paled. As she was about to press it to her stomach, she froze and gasped.

There was nothing there.

She dropped the towel and gazed down at her now clean shirt, she even lifted it up to inspect the skin of her stomach, but there was not a single mark on her. Relief and fear over-whelmed her as she sunk to the floor and burst into a fit of silent sobs.

"Oh come on, Bolls..." she looked up at Gene's voice. "Yer gotta be strong. Get back to me..."

He was stood, leaning lazily on the door frame. Alex gaped at him with disbelieving eyes as he offered her small smile.

"We're waitin' for you, Bolly.." he said before turning and leaving, Alex frozen to the spot on the bathroom floor.


End file.
